


untitled

by VOREYEURISM



Category: Deluge Pointe
Genre: Deluge Pointe AU, F/M, Homicidal Ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 23:04:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14757974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VOREYEURISM/pseuds/VOREYEURISM
Summary: “I don’t like you,” the murderess spat coldly, harsh fingers reaching their way to wind around his throat. The man only laughed, arms held loosely on either side in a lazy shrug.“Ah, well. I guess that’s too bad?” He smiled placidly, inserting his palms back into the pocket of his hoodie without a care in the world. “‘Cause I likeyou.”





	untitled

**Author's Note:**

> this is actually one of the few samples of my writing i'm kinda maybe sorta impressed with ?!

“I don’t like you,” the murderess spat coldly, harsh fingers reaching their way to wind around his throat. The man only laughed, arms held loosely on either side in a lazy shrug.

“Ah, well. I guess that’s too bad?” He smiled placidly, inserting his palms back into the pocket of his hoodie without a care in the world. “‘Cause I like  _ you _ .” She grimaced, wringing his neck tighter; he moved his head, and if KG didn’t know any better she’d think he was deliberately trying to give her more access. The grin on his face as his breath hitched was practically  _ telling _ .

**_Disgusting._ **

“I really wish,” she spoke through grit teeth, “you would just  _ die _ already. That would make my life so much easier. So. Much.  _ Easier. _ ”

The little fucker had the gall to just  _ laugh _ . “Well I’m sorry to disappoint but I don’t actually live to  _ please _ you, y’know?” He looked bemused, leather-clad fingers reaching to wind around her wrists with astounding delicacy. With a wink he slid his thumbs under her palms, gently prying her hands from his neck. “Though I definitely wouldn’t mind taking it up as an on-the-side thing.”

The smirk didn’t even leave his stupid face when KG pulled out her knife to lunge at him; he just chuckled again, that  _ infuriating _ little noise — so soft, so breathy, so  _ genuine _ . KG absolutely  _ hated _ it.

“Sorry, I can’t tonight,” she  _ hated _ how sincere he looked, how apologetic, as he caught her wrists and disarmed her, pulling her close enough to feel the heat that radiated off his body. “I don’t have the time to deal with the bloodstains. Next time, though!”

And then he leaned in. KG’s eyes went wide and for a brief second she froze in his grip, not expecting the sudden movement. Not expecting the sudden brush of soft, moist skin — his lips — against her cheek, the subtle tickle of feathery red hair. The abrupt warmth of another person, so close to her. The scent of toasted rice and clean linen.

Her fingers twitched blindly, forgetting that her knife had been traded into his hands. Her own body began to feel warm — not the pleasant warmth of fluster, no, but the searing-hot sensation of alarm,  _ panic _ . Her survival instincts were screaming to fight back, or at least run, but before she could reflexively push him away she found he’d done the job for her. The redhead’s presence was gone as quickly as it came, receding like the shallow waves of a beach.

Now it was just her left to flounder on the sand.

“I hope you enjoyed dinner,” he spoke before words could leave her open mouth, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. As if  _ now _ , of all times, he had the decency to feel sheepish.

“Next time, yeah?” He reiterated, cutting her off a second time. “Good night, Miss Murder.”

And then he was gone, leaving nothing but a pistol of his fingers and kiss of their hands as he placed the knife back into hers. The white of his jacket, stark in contrast to the surrounding night’s shadows, faded into the background as KG was left fuming, grappling with herself as to whether or not she should do something,  _ anything, _ to get the last word. Inevitably Killer Girl just clenched the wood of the handle furiously, cursing herself for not reacting when she had the chance, for not ramming that blade into his chest when he oh-so-wisely returned it to her waiting fingers.

She wanted to scream, to cry out. To bury her blade deep into a writhing mass of flesh, one she’d have to find a substitute for now that he was  _ gone _ , now that it couldn’t be  _ him _ . So she did scream, she cried out into the stagnant night where no one would hear her, hands balled tight into white-knuckled fists as she hurled her knife to the ground, the metal clanging on asphalt without enough force, enough  _ violence _ to soothe her. KG unclenched her hands to run shaking fingers through her hair, brows furrowed and teeth grit; she slumped onto the wall and sank down in frustration.

Every nerve in her body felt wired. Electricity coursed through her veins in a restless fury. She  _ needed _ it. She  _ needed _ to— 

She needed to find someone.

_ Someone _ to tide her over until that red-haired scourge of humanity came back. Someone she could sink a knife into in the meantime, feel the rip of flesh under a sharpened edge, the warmth of blood pool onto her fists as she dug deeper.

_ Next time _ , he said. Then it’ll definitely, surely be  _ him _ .  _ Next time. _


End file.
